


Goodbye, Dreamland

by littlereyofsunlight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Coney Island, F/M, I guess Steve and Peggy should be happy they didn't get rained on, Murphy's Law, Steggy Positivity Week 2018, beach day!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlereyofsunlight/pseuds/littlereyofsunlight
Summary: “You don’t think the Cyclone will make you queasy this time, do you?”Steve shook his head. “I haven’t had any problems with my stomach since the serum.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Not that I’ve been on a roller coaster since then, but the way Nat flies the Quinjet has to count as a thrill ride sometimes.”Peggy had only been up the one time when Natasha was flying, but she really couldn’t fault his logic.Steve and Peggy take a trip to Coney Island in an alternate-timeline in which Peggy is brought to the future and Ultron never happened.





	Goodbye, Dreamland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roboticonography](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticonography/gifts), [indiefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/gifts).



> There's a brief mention of someone getting sick, but there are no details/description of the moment, so heads up for anyone who would be put off by that!

“It’s real different than my day,” Steve said, slight hesitation slowing his voice. They’d come out of the sprawling Coney Island subway station on Stillwell between Mermaid and Surf, right by the Subway sandwich shop, into a dazzlingly bright late June morning. A solitary breeze wafted the sea air past overflowing trash bins, combining those scents into a familiar Brooklyn perfume as they walked up the steps by the improbably twisted red and blue tracks of a roller coaster. 

Peggy, preoccupied with digging into her beach bag to touch up her sunscreen—it had been over two hours since she’d last put it on, and all of today’s literature suggested, as did Peggy’s own fair-skinned experience thus far this summer, that reapplication was necessary after that much sun exposure—so she didn’t quite catch it. “Well darling, it’s been seventy years.” She held up the tube, triumphant, then frowned up at him from under her floppy-brimmed hat. “Also, wasn’t there a flood recently?”

Steve shoved his hands in his shorts pockets and started to amble down the boardwalk. “2012, Superstorm Sandy. Maybe five months after the Chitauri attack on Manhattan.”

“Steve,” Peggy said, realization dawning as she rubbed extra SPF onto her cheeks, “I thought you hadn’t been here since you’d…” She stumbled over just what to call it, his miraculous return to the living.

“Since I was defrosted?” There was a sardonic edge Peggy didn’t miss this time. Wisely she held her tongue, knowing he’d elaborate in his own time. She offered him the sunscreen, but he wrinkled his nose and waved it away. “We all watched the storm from Stark Tower. There was a crane in Midtown that collapsed, and Tony went out in the middle of it, to secure that. But mostly we could only sit around til it passed.” He looked over at her. “Hell of a view, though.” 

He took her hand, directed her past the entrance to Luna Park, headed away from most of the crowds. “They thought I’d be helpful here, since there had been looting. The beach had been washed clear up over this whole boardwalk, and all I saw were store owners trying to clean out and citizens just trying to get by when everything was closed or wrecked.” He shrugged, and Peggy squeezed his hand. “Coulda done something more in Breezy Point, maybe, but I went where they sent me.”

“Steve, I wish you’d told me.” 

He gave her a lopsided smile and squeezed back. “Well, you said you wanted to come. I know you lived in the city for a while before you came to this time, so I figured you liked it, or maybe hadn’t had the chance to visit.”

Peggy gave a brittle laugh and stopped walking so she could face him. “Neither, I’m afraid. I have been before, and I was miserable the whole time.” Steve blanched, frown lines forming between his brows. “Darling, I came out here when I first moved because you’d spoken fondly of it, and then I spent the entire day crying about you, because you weren’t with me. I suggested this trip because I thought you’d want to see it again.”

His confusion gave way to sadness as his heart clenched, thinking of Peggy alone on a bench, staring out at the freezing winter surf and missing him. He drew her close, intending to sweep her into a hug.

But Peggy started laughing as she watched the emotions play across Steve’s face. “Listen to us! This isn’t an O. Henry story, Steve, it’s a trip to Coney Island! Sunshine! Roller coasters! Hot dogs! Splashing in the water! For pity’s sake, we’re here together and the beach is back where it’s supposed to be, so let’s just enjoy it.” When he smiled in return, she rewarded him by throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss so deep, an onlooker wolf-whistled as they passed. 

“You know,” Steve said, straightening his crooked collar, “I have a feeling today’s going to be a good day.”

Some time later, having walked the length of the boardwalk several times to soak up the sun and take in all their options for amusement, Peggy happened to remove her sunglasses and see just how red Steve, staunch refuser of sun protection, had gotten since they’d arrived. “Steven Rogers!” she exclaimed. “You are turning into a lobster before my eyes.”

Steve gingerly touched his nose and winced at the too-tight, sore feeling of a sunburn. “It won’t last,” he said, sheepish. “As soon as I’m out of the sun, I’ll be fine.”

Peggy goggled at him. “We have no indoor plans! Do you mean to tell me I’m to spend my entire day with a man turning ever-increasing shades of red?” He shrugged. “Steve, doesn’t it hurt?”

He squirmed under her scrutiny. “I’ve had worse.”

Peggy snorted. “Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your sense of scale. I’m buying you a hat right now.” She steered him into a souvenir shop. “Your ears look absurd!”

Though he protested the bucket hat Peggy had first tried to cram onto his skull and lobbied unsuccessfully for a baseball cap (“Steve, your _ears!_ ”), they eventually compromised on a straw trilby, which had enough of a brim to satisfy Peggy’s shade requirements and didn’t make Steve feel as though he’d missed the boat for a fishing trip, or a John Candy movie. In retaliation, Steve picked out a t-shirt while Peggy was at the register. He wouldn’t let her see it until they’d left the store.

“Oh, bloody Nora!” Peggy pulled the shirt from its plastic bag. “Honestly, Steve, this is a complete waste of money. You should return it.”

“What?” Steve asked, all innocence now that he’d managed to turn the tables. “It’s cheeky. You’re cheeky. I thought you could use a souvenir.”

Peggy turned the shirt over to examine the back, which, like the front, was printed with a cartoon woman’s bikini-clad body. “It’s cheeky, all right,” Peggy muttered. “I’m never wearing it,” she told him.

“That hurts. You don’t like my gift?” He tried to hold a pout but the outraged look on Peggy’s face was too much, and he broke down in giggles. “It’s terrible!”

“It is terrible!” Peggy couldn’t fathom why he’d bought it.

Steve slung his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “It’s not a day at Coney without a terrible souvenir.” He went to drop a kiss against her temple, but Peggy’s sensible hat got in the way and all he got was straw and a bit of grosgrain ribbon. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Peggy grumbled, outrage melting slightly as she shoved the offending shirt into her bag. “Still not wearing it.”

“Nah, you’re way too classy for that shirt.” Steve agreed. “We can give it to Tony when we get home.”

That, at least, made her smile. “He would like this shirt.”

“The man’s got no class, we all know it.”

They’d arrived at the entrance for the midway games, and Peggy had an idea. “You know what? I think it’s time I took you to school, Rogers.” She grabbed his hand and set off through the milling crowd, making a beeline for the shooting range. When they arrived, Steve took one look at the carnival game and then looked back at her. “Loser buys lunch?” she suggested, oh-so-casual. 

Steve chuckled, knowing just what he was getting himself into, but he still said yes. This was going to be fun.

Twenty minutes later, the barker running the shooting range was pleading with Peggy to move along. “You’re intimidating everyone! No one wants to go up against you! I’m not gonna hit my numbers if you stick around, lady, come on.”

Peggy surveyed the small mountain of stuffed animals she’d amassed with her sharp-shooting skills. “Well, I suppose this will do, then.” She turned to Steve and loaded him up with an armful. “Let’s pass these out and then see what other games look fun.”

It didn’t take long for word to spread to all the kids on the midway that there were free toys to be had, and they quickly dispersed Peggy’s winnings among the group. Task accomplished, they decided against the ring toss and some game known as “Fried Frogs,” but Peggy made Steve stop when they reached the strength tester. 

“Aw, Peggy, I hated this one back in the day,” Steve complained. 

“Great,” Peggy winked at him. “Now you get another crack at it.”

Steve rubbed at the back of his (sunburned) neck. “I don’t know, isn’t it just...showing off now?”

“I don’t know why you’re not seeing that’s precisely the idea,” she said, a wicked gleam in her eye as she raked her gaze over his impressive physique. Oh. Now Steve got the point. Could you blush with a sunburn? Because he was pretty sure he was doing that just now, and feeling warm all through his body as Peggy continued to openly appreciate his looks.

Some of the kids had followed Peggy and Steve after the stuffed animals, so there was a small crowd to witness when Steve, quite unexpectedly brought the hammer down and broke both it and the bell when the force of his swing shot the puck straight through and off the tower. 

“Woah!” One of the kids, a tousle-headed boy there with his chubby friend, exclaimed. “Did you see that Ned? Did you see it!”

“That guy’s gotta be as strong as Thor,” Ned replied. 

Peggy just smirked while Steve stammered an apology to the flabbergasted worker. He couldn’t beg off when the woman insisted he take the prize he’d won, either, but Ned and his scrawny friend were all to happy to step forward when Steve offered it to them.

“Are you Thor?” The kid shouted at Steve, eyes wide with awe. “Mister, are you THOR?”

“Peter, you can’t ASK people if they’re Thor!” Peggy heard Ned admonish as they waddled away, dragging a giant stuffed bear between them. “What if he’s UNDERCOVER?”

Laughing, Peggy looked back at a still embarrassed Steve. “Well, is it time I collected on my winnings? I think I fancy a hot dog for lunch.”

All ten registers at the boardwalk Nathan’s were stacked at least twenty people deep. Peggy couldn’t quite make out the menu board from so far back, but Steve’s super-soldier eyesight was helpful in that endeavor.

“Two fifty for a hot dog?” Steve sputtered, incredulous. Several people turned to stare, Peggy included. 

“We’ve been out to eat before, Steve. You know what things cost now.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had some version of this conversation, but she’d thought he had finally accepted the changes inflation had wrought over the past seventy-odd years. 

He looked at her, then back at the menu plastered with colorful photos. “It’s just, the last time I ate a hot dog here, it cost me my last nickel.” He shook his head. “Bucky wound up sharing his lemonade with me ’cause I couldn’t afford a drink.”

Peggy grabbed his hand and laced her fingers with his. He gave her that lopsided smile again and she felt a sympathetic pang in her heart. 

“Sorry, I’m doing it again. We’re here now and the sun is shining, right?”

Peggy tipped her chin up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s a good day.”

Still, he’d drawn the line at buying himself more than a single hot dog and a small lemonade. Peggy rolled her eyes and ordered herself all the food she fancied, including the chilli cheese fries. Steve grumbled a bit but he didn’t welch on their bet.

He polished off his lunch in no time flat, then snuck fries off of Peggy’s plate when her hands were full of the burger she’d ordered. He stopped after she glared at him, because he knew better than to get overly familiar with Peggy’s food if she hadn’t offered. Eventually, slowed down a bit after the hamburger, hot dog and giant lemonade, she gave him a few more fries of her own accord.

Though it was past noon, the day seemed to just keep getting hotter. Steve suggested they duck into the small museum, but they were chased off by an overzealous docent who spouted one too many incorrect facts about the area and time period Steve had grown up in. Peggy suggested they try some of the rides, instead. 

“You don’t think the Cyclone will make you queasy this time, do you?” 

Steve shook his head. “I haven’t had any problems with my stomach since the serum.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Not that I’ve been on a roller coaster since then, but the way Nat flies the Quinjet has to count as a thrill ride sometimes.”

Peggy had only been up the one time when Natasha was flying, but she really couldn’t fault his logic.

“Well then, let’s go. I never did get to try it out on my last trip.”

Steve felt a familiar churning in his gut as their car rattled its way up the steep incline, but when the brakes released and they shot down the first hill, it unspooled into a pure rush not unlike what he felt when he got to jump from an airlift. It turned out, Peggy really liked roller coasters. It felt dangerous, the way the old wooden car careened over the tracks, slamming them from side to side on the curves. Beside Steve, Peggy screamed her delight and he gave an answering “whoop” when they crested the next hill.

“That was absolutely brilliant.” Peggy’s eyes were bright and her color high when they finally came to a stop.

“You liked it?”

“I’ve never felt anything like it!”

Steve smirked. “You should try jumping out of a plane sometime.”

She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. “Yes, but no one was shooting at us here.” She smiled wide. “We’re going again.”

They rode the Cyclone two more times, and then did the Soarin’ Eagle, the Wild River, the Steeplechase, and the Thunderbolt. Peggy suggested the Slingshot next, but Steve steered her towards the Raceway instead. Steve liked to tell the story of how Peggy had been relieved of driving duties after a particularly harrowing escape through the Alps with the Howlies piled into the back of a troop truck. Now when he told it, he’d be able to add she was still hell on wheels even when the car was miniaturized. They did several circuits before Steve was able to pry her out of the driver’s seat, and then he only managed it with a promise of funnel cake. 

The funnel cake vendor also sold fried Oreos, so Peggy insisted they sample those, too. Steve tried one Oreo, pronounced it “interesting” and then demolished his own funnel cake—they’d each ordered one, in deference to Steve’s advanced metabolism and Peggy’s legendary sweet tooth. Peggy agreed that the fried cookies were a strange confection, but she wasn’t about to let chocolate, even the inferior American version, go to waste. 

Hot, sticky, and lightheaded from the combination of race car exhaust, waning adrenaline and far too much sugar in their systems, they agreed to take a break on the Wonder Wheel so they could take in the view.

When their car reached the full fifteen stories, the Wheel shuddered to a stop. Peggy leaned close to the cage, the better to see out past the boardwalk to the flat expanse of sand, crowded with Saturday beach-goers and all their gear, despite how late it was growing. “We should have brought our bathing suits, the bay looks perfect from up here.”

Steve looked over her head at the same view and felt a sudden swooping in his stomach. “Oh,” he said, quickly looking away.

“Something wrong?” Peggy turned back to him.

In an instant, Steve felt every last one of those one hundred and fifty feet between himself and the solid ground. He grabbed onto the seat divider in front of him as he inexplicably felt like he might lose his balance, though he was sitting down. “Uh, I guess I’m not used to just hanging out in midair.” He tried to laugh it off. “Maybe if I were chasing down Hydra, I wouldn’t notice how high we are.” His stomach gave another worrisome lurch.

Mercifully, they started moving again, and the feeling receded as they got ever closer to the ground. “Are we—” before he could get his question out, it was confirmed. They were going around again. Steve whipped his head around in confusion as the car sailed right past the ride workers and began a second ascent, and with it, his churning gut.

He closed his eyes and tried to control it by inhaling through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth. 

“Oh darling, I didn’t realize it affected you so much.” Peggy had a little smile on her face as she shifted closer to him and put a hand high up on his thigh. “I’m sure we can think of some way of distracting you until the ride’s over,” she suggested, a sultry note in her voice. 

“Oh,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on her hand so he wouldn’t catch sight of the view outside their little cage. “Uh.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time lust had turned him ineloquent, so in the aftermath Steve had to admit Peggy wasn’t exactly in the wrong for leaning in to kiss him at that moment. It was, however, not what Steve was trying to communicate just then.

The ride worker took one look at the mess Steve had made and heaved a sigh so loud Peggy was fairly sure people heard it in Queens. “I’m so sorry,” Steve murmured, actively willing himself to shrink back to his pre-serum size out of sheer mortification. Peggy said nothing at all, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was the shock or anger fueling her silence.

Once she was clear of the ride, Peggy made a beeline for the nearest restroom, holding the hem of her blouse out so the damp portion didn’t stick to her torso. Luckily her reflexes were still as fast as they’d been during the war, or it could have been much worse. Steve followed her, hoping there’d be a nearby spigot. At the time, he hadn’t been thinking about moving his feet out of the splash zone. He supposed he was lucky a day at the beach called for flip-flops.

There was no possible way she’d get her top clean enough using only bathroom soap and a hand dryer on its last legs. Peggy wasn’t about to walk back out into the fray with a giant stain on her shirt. Grinding her molars together, she reached into her bag and pulled out Steve’s souvenir.

Steve tried his best to hold in his laughter as Peggy stalked out of the rest room in the ridiculous shirt he’d never intended for her to wear, but the juxtaposition of her thunderous expression over the artificially inflated body drawn on her torso did him in. 

“You seem to be feeling better,” Peggy bit out, shaking her hair out from the neck of the t-shirt. She crossed her arms over the horrible cartoon. 

He wiped at his eyes and nodded. “I’m so sorry, Peg. I really didn’t know that would happen.”

Peggy sniffed. “You’ll have to make it up to me, Rogers.”

“Anything.” He looked especially penitent in the light of the setting sun.

She stretched her neck and let out a breath. “I think a very stiff drink is in order so I can deal with the double humiliation you’ve put me through.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“We haven’t seen the fireworks yet, Steve.” She looked at him as though he’d suddenly lost all higher brain functioning.

Steve made a face. “Really? Even after—”

Peggy laid hands on him and turned him in the direction of Ruby’s Bar and Grill. “We came out here to experience all Coney Island has to offer. That includes fireworks,” she said through grit teeth. “Now, until said fireworks appear, we’re getting me a drink, Captain. You owe me.”

The boardwalk in front of Ruby’s was a crush of people trying to enjoy a beverage or ten that hot summer evening. Even though the sun was setting, the heat of the day lay heavy over the beach, a wan breeze occasionally providing slight relief. Steve waded into the crowd while Peggy hung back at the edge. Some time later he returned with two drinks in hand. She raised her eyebrow. Steve didn’t drink unless he was trying to be sociable, and they’d long passed the point in their relationship where he felt the need to keep up the pretense. 

He shrugged. “I’m just holding this one while you finish the first. No way am I going back into that madness.”

“You’re making great strides towards getting back in my good graces,” Peggy smiled.

Steve grinned back at her. The crowd pressed in around them and the air felt stagnant, close, too humid and warm. He tipped his head in the direction of the aquarium, up the boardwalk. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes please.” She gulped down her drink so they were only sneaking one adult beverage out of the bounds of the bar, then followed Steve as he cut a path through all the people milling around.

Eventually the crowds thinned out as Peggy and Steve made their way down the wide walkway. 

“So this whole neighborhood used to be pretty upscale,” Steve said as they passed the housing project buildings in the distance. “Back when they called the waterfront attractions Dreamland. Then it went up in a fire.”

Peggy quirked her lip. “Much like our day.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “it was pretty much the opposite of what was advertised.”

There were hardly any people down this end, the revelers sticking close to the bright lights of Luna Park as they awaited the evening’s show. Peggy drew Steve over to a bench, and they relaxed as twilight gave way to nighttime. Though it was steamy, Peggy sat close to him, with Steve’s arm draped across the back of the bench. 

“Sticking to the beach might have been a better plan,” Peggy said eventually, watching the water lap against the sand.

“It’s not the cleanest one by far,” Steve said. “And it’s always so crowded.”

Peggy let her head loll back against his shoulder. “That’s all part of the experience, though.”

“Yeah, part of the experience used to be running naked into the surf, so, you know, we won’t be repeating that any time soon.” He scratched at his neck, which was finally beginning to heal now that the sun was down. It was itchy.

“Were you here often?” Peggy asked. “Before the war?”

Steve shrugged. “My health was usually better in the summers, and doctors kept encouraging me to ‘take the sea air,’ which, sure, that helped some. But me and Buck definitely got into more scrapes out here than I care to admit.” He rested his chin against her hair. “We had a lot of fun.”

“Do you think he’ll come in from the cold one of these days?” She’d missed Steve’s run-in with the Winter Soldier, but it not the effects it had on him. Even now, he would rush out if Sam or Nat brought in word of a credible sighting. But Sergeant Barnes didn’t want Steve to find him. Not yet, at least.

“I hope so.” 

“Me, too.” She did, though she was afraid of what it could mean for Steve if it happened. 

He looked down where their hands were linked in his lap. “Just can’t seem to shake the bad memories out here, huh?”

“They aren’t all bad, though, are they?” Peggy bit her lip.

Steve kissed the the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of sunscreen and Peggy’s shampoo. “It was pretty great seeing you go to town on those milk bottles at the shooting gallery,” he smiled into her hair.

Peggy chuckled. “The look on your face when that boy asked if you were Thor!”

“I was flattered.”

“Naturally.” The breeze finally picked up, and Peggy took the opportunity to snuggle in closer. “So, maybe a good day after all.”

Steve cupped her chin, gently tilting her face up to his. “Not all bad.”

And, as they kissed, the fireworks show began. As far as cliched days at Coney Island went, both Peggy and Steve had to admit this one was pretty great in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to roboticonography and indiefic, who spit-balled ideas with me for this story one fine May day. Thanks, pals!


End file.
